Ann stared at him with her mouth hanging open. “You were in there alone?” She had never attended this church and did not know him, but quickly identified the man who opened the door as the Reverend, despite his plain clothes. “Okay, come on, get in!” The Reverend got into the passenger seat as Ann put the car in reverse and pulled away. She went back to the main road that led to their route east, out of town, and waited. She stared in the rearview mirror and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “Come on, Ron.”
Ron watched as several more of the fiends went flying up into the air from the horrible blast. The remaining pack had gotten to within thirty feet of the car, and he dropped down into the driver’s seat and punched the gas but nothing happened. He stabbed the gas pedal with his foot several more times and smacked the dashboard. “Shit. Shit! Shit!” He slammed his fists down on the steering wheel and looked in the rearview mirror. He went wide-eyed as he saw only swaying chests and stomachs, no heads or legs. He locked the doors, closed his eyes and pushed out a breath, and began working with the ignition wires with shaky hands. He found the right wires, and tapped them together to get a spark. In those mere seconds the car got surrounded and rocked back and forth as they climbed onto it. Ron looked up and saw a twisted face appear in the sunroof, and quickly fired his assault rifle. The creature stopped moving and its head hung limply inside the car with blood drooling in. The car rocked back and forth as the ones outside pushed and pounded. Their hands banged on the windows, smearing them with the blood and muck that covered their bodies.
After seconds that felt like minutes, Ron touched the wires together and finally heard the engine purr to life. He slammed the gear into drive and floored the gas. The car bounced around as it ran over a few bodies in front, and he had to keep moving his head around to see past the ones that had climbed on the hood. Just as he started to pull away from the group, a cold hand wrapped around his chin and yanked it up. With his head tilted back, Ron’s eyes shot up and saw that another one of the undead had found the sunroof and was pulling with all its might. Its strength raised him up out of his seat until all he had keeping him down was his iron grip on the steering wheel.
His head jerked around with the movements of the car, and his hands inadvertently turned the steering wheel back and forth. The car bounced up on the sidewalk and threw a couple creatures off the hood. As they fell off Ron’s eyes widened as he tried to steer the opposite way and get back on the road. The filthy hand held onto him like a vice, despite the creature getting tossed around. With his body contorted to the side Ron’s grip on the steering wheel served only to keep him from getting dragged toward the sunroof. At that moment, when he completely lost control, the car slammed into an old magnolia tree and threw everything forward. The impact hurled the dead into the trunk of the tree with meaty thuds and severe cracks. Dozens of white flowers showered the car as the tree’s branches shook. Of all the things Ron should have noticed, their pristine pureness in contrast with the soiled dead somehow etched itself into his mind.
Ron did not have long to recover. He looked up and saw that none of the undead around the hood, which was bent into an arc with steam and smoke spewing out, stirred. His breathing rate was manic as he grabbed his guns, opened the door, and fell out of the car. He looked up and groaned as he saw the ones left behind stepping over the sidewalk. He struggled to his feet and stumbled across the grass with uncoordinated steps, and the remaining mob was a few paces behind.
As Ron pressed forward glancing around the neighborhood, he seemed unaware of the large cut on his forehead from when it smacked the steering wheel. As he ran, his blood pumped faster and trickled down his face onto his shirt. He saw double and could not tell exactly what was real anymore. He turned, pointed the M32 at the center of the pursuing horde, and fired, but the round exploded on the sidewalk at the base of a “FOR SALE” sign which disintegrated into tiny pieces. Ron shook his head and almost fell over. “Shit!”
He turned and tried to run faster but only staggered more from side to side. I have to get off this street! Ron saw an alley leading back to the road that merged with their easterly route and took it. He felt lightheaded and stopped to catch his breath with one hand on a wall. That was when he noticed the blood dribbling off his head and landing around his feet. I can’t keep running like this! He looked up and saw the pack entering the alleyway and decided to make a stand until he regained his awareness. Quickly taking in his surroundings, Ron saw that the narrow alleyway ran behind a row of townhouses and an earthen wall, from something under construction, buffered the other side. He grabbed a trash can and flipped it over, knelt down, and rested the M32 as he peered down the barrel. As the abominations poured into the gap, he fired a round. This time it flew straight into the pack, and the tight confines contained some of the blast, and the power ripped into torsos as the shockwave reverberated off the walls. All the windows in the wall next to the explosion shattered, and the bricks resembled blackened Flambé. Ron smiled with satisfaction and squeezed the trigger one more time. In return, it only rewarded him with a hollow click.
Ron stared at the gun with unfocused eyes and shook it then squeezed the trigger again, still nothing. He started patting his coat, and his hands only found vacant cloth. More of the creatures pushed through the slaughter in pursuit, and he stood halfway, but he slumped back down in a daze. He let the M32 fall and picked up the Tavor and rested it on the top of the can and began firing. He blinked more often than normal, and his eyes rolled around never staying steady.
The bullets ricocheted off the walls, while others found heads and some torsos. He felt like he was concentrating effectively until the barrel of the gun starting sliding back and forth on the trash can’s slick plastic. When he emptied the magazine, he slowly took it out and felt around for another one. He watched without emotion as the horde closed in, and his brain shrouded in fog, all the while patting his chest in a hapless search for more ammunition.
Just as Ron felt ready to lie down and give up, he heard a series of fast popping sounds that he recognized. He leaned up against the wall and tried to stand up but fell over. As dark clouds closed in around his vision, he could have sworn he saw Ann standing on top of the earthen mound unloading shots from the AA12. He smiled and gave a limp fist pump. “Go Ann.” His voice trailed off, and his sight faded to black as curtains went down on the world of Ron.
Chapter Eighteen
Silence had fallen on the group since leaving the gas station. Jeremy sat up in the turret manning the gun, ready to shoot anything that moved. He occasionally looked down at his hand, still bleeding through a dish towel he had wrapped around it, and his eyes would tighten up. He had made up his mind that he would shoot as many as he could while he still lived, but when he started to feel strange he would not endanger the group by holding onto life. It did not matter if the undead tore him limb from limb in the process. Technically, as he saw it, he died at the gas station.
Meg sat quietly in the back seat on the driver’s side with her head leaned against the window. She had not stopped staring at the yellow lines in the middle of the road as they weaved back and forth over them for mile after mile.
Laura sat beside her and stole sideways glances which Meg never acknowledged. Occasionally Laura’s eyes would drift up and find Donnie’s in the rearview mirror, and they would both look away. Finally, it became easier for her to curl up into a ball and face the other way. She placed her hand over her mouth as Meg started sobbing and wiped her own tears away.
Donnie drove in silence, but the fire behind his eyes wanted to burn the world. He sat alone in the front after the beating he had given Jim, and he occasionally glanced at him in the mirror and imagined holding his head as he slammed the door into it several times. But no amount of pain he could imagine inflicting brought a smile to his face. He had reached the point in the red zone where he envisioned his insides looking like an erupting volcano, and his blood was lava. He had never conjured up more violent images in his
life.
They passed a sign that read: PURDAH - 2 MILES. Several houses started to dot the countryside and they passed a couple of businesses outside town.
Donnie’s eyes scanned around, but he hardly moved. “We’re almost there.”
“What are we going to do, just roll in and start shooting?” Laura looked at Donnie with her eyebrows raised.
Donnie looked at the high grass on either side. “I don’t know. We just have to take a look around first. I hope we can find somewhere safe to sleep for the night.”
Laura rested her head on her hands as she leaned against the door. “I can hardly remember what a bed feels like.”
“Me too.” Donnie’s face tightened up as they came up on the first buildings lining the outskirts of town. “Okay, keep your eyes open. I’m sure they haven’t all left town.” Donnie looked to the right and snapped his head left when the minigun opened fire on that side.
Jeremy mowed down two that he saw walking toward them in front of the post office. The bullets ripped into a metal plaque out front and made a clamor. He did not try to control his shots like before, when he had used only the necessary lethal force. This time he fired with wrath and pumped his ire into every round. He did not release the trigger once their heads exploded, but sprayed the bullets from side to side, until the slugs nearly tore his victims in half. Another one stepped out in front of the SUV and when Jeremy turned on it, already squeezing the trigger, the bullets ripped into its head, but he did not stop there. He held the gun on it until the bullets severed one of its arms. He saw more on the right side and gave them the same treatment, but nothing satisfied his thirst. He emptied the magazine on them and reloaded to do some more.
Donnie drove through the center of town slowly to let Jeremy do his work and kept his eyes peeled for a promising side road that led somewhere safe. Paying attention to several distractions at once, nothing grabbed him on the first pass. Before he knew it, they had gone right through town and reached the outskirts. He did not want to drive on Main Street again and have Jeremy waste any more cartridges, but he kept that to himself. He had fired like a man possessed, but Donnie completely understood under the circumstances.
They reached an intersection at the edge of town. Donnie searched right and left then saw it, the perfect place. A high chain link fence, with two rows of barbwire defending the top, surrounded a large lot that had a factory in the middle, with a big sign on top reading: Devon Chemicals Inc. The asphalt around the factory served as a parking lot for staff and extended about thirty yards before reaching the doors. If the creatures breached the fence they would still have to contend with high walls and few windows. The structure had cargo bays for shipments, with sliding metal doors that rolled down from the ceiling. In lieu of having a fortress to hold out in, this building would serve as a suitable alternative.
Donnie looked in the rearview mirror and saw a small band of creatures approaching. They had guessed right about the town. It had some undead but was not overrun. In time they could cleanse the streets.
The facility’s gate had a hefty chain wrapped around the bars, secured by a padlock. Donnie would have liked to somehow save the lock and chain to secure the gate again. However, they did not have the luxury of time. Donnie banged on the roof. “Jeremy! Shoot that chain off.”
Jeremy pointed the gun down and let it rip. A barrage of bullets tore the chain apart and the lock fell to the ground, by far the most accurate shooting he had done all day.
Donnie jumped out and pushed on the gate, and it gave a couple inches and stopped dead. “Thank God!” He waved his arms in the air at everyone in the SUV. “Grab what we need and get inside, now!” Seconds later, everyone scrambled out with armloads of supplies they had picked up along the way. Then Donnie jumped back in and began to back the Humvee in front of the gate to block it, and he noticed that the minigun still whined as bullets peppered the dead down the street. “Jeremy, get inside the gate!”
“Sorry man, this is where I get off. I’m already startin’ to feel sick. In a few hours I won’t be able to stand up, and then you know what happens.” He pulled the trigger and dropped a few more as they approached.
Donnie punched the roof. “Jeremy, not like this man! I told you I would take care of it.”
“How are you gonna put the Hummer up against the gate and still get inside? Somebody’s gotta stay out to do that. Get in there. This is the best way for me to go out. Don’t worry. Those fuckers ain’t takin’ me alive. Go on! Get outta here.”
Donnie stood up on the running board and looked at his friend. He extended his hand to shake and tried to smile, but he knew it did not look convincing. “I’ll never forget this, Jeremy. You’re a hero.”
Jeremy reached down and shook Donnie’s hand, squeezing tightly as only best friends can, with rivalry unblemished by jealousy. Tears welled up in each of their eyes. “You don’t know what it means to me to hear you say that. Don’t waste it.”
Inside the fence Meg looked back and saw their hands embracing. Her body tensed up as she stopped running, and her face wrinkled as she stared. She tried to scream, but her voice only dribbled out. “No Jeremy, I’m not ready.”
Jeremy hopped down in the driver’s seat as Donnie ran inside with an armload of food and water, and he backed the Humvee into the gate to block it and engaged the parking break. Then he climbed back up into the turret and unleashed hell. As the dead closed in around the vehicle he mowed them down screaming at the top of his lungs. Finally, when they got too close to shoot, he dropped down inside and picked up a container. He climbed out of the gun turret with it, jumped on the hood, and launched himself away from the vehicle as far as he could. As the undead surrounded him, reaching out desperately, he tilted the container up and doused himself in the yellow liquid and made sure to get it on the pack as well. He turned to look at Meg and Donnie and gave a quick smile as the fluid streamed down his face. The hands closed in around him and began pulling in every direction, scratching him and tearing his shirt, and he produced a roadside flare. At that moment, when he let them get as close as possible, his body disappeared behind a wall of writhing limbs, but the strength that served him so well in life granted him his one, last wish. He pulled his hands together and struck the cap, and the whole bundle of decaying flesh and blood immediately burst into flames that climbed high over their heads and licked the trees. The force of the ignition sent bodies staggering backward still clawing for flesh in the flaming void.
Meg and Donnie watched in horror as they floundered and fell, until the flames silenced them forever. Meg had tears streaming down her cheeks. Donnie put his arm around her and pulled her in close, and she buried her face in his chest and sobbed.
Donnie looked at the burning remains of his friend and made a silent vow. It will not be in vain. You didn’t die for nothing. I’ll make sure of that.
The remaining undead that survived the fire, numbering about fifteen, walked up to the fence and tested its durability. They shook and banged it, but the force only dissipated as the metal wall undulated.
Donnie walked up and looked at them. They yanked on the mesh of metallic diamonds and gnashed their teeth. He raised the sawed-off shotgun and fired into two of their heads, reloaded, and fired again. His expression did not change as blood specks hit his face, and brain fragments spread out on the road. When he rifled through his pockets and did not find any more cartridges, he lowered the gun and walked away in silence.
After searching around the premises, they managed to get into the factory through a cargo bay by busting the lock. Inside, a small security office sat by the main entrance with some monitors for cameras stacked on a table. However, with no power, they were useless. A perforated calendar in the night watchmen’s office had not had the date changed since several days before impact. The inscription below the date read: “Reach out and hug someone today, for life revolves around love.” Donnie snorted and turned the calendar down on its face. He opened the desk and found a flashlight,
then continued to search around.
The facility had large vats inside, and an array of switches, dials, and knobs lined almost everything. Everybody examined all the controls with furrowed brows, but nobody touched anything.
Laura stood underneath a vat looking up at a sign sounding out letters. “A-C-R-Y-L-A-T-E resin. What is this stuff?”
Donnie looked at the label and scratched his chin. “Acrylate resin, I think it’s used to make clear plastic, like on windows and cell phone displays.”
“How do you know that?” Laura looked over at him with mouth hanging open.
“Just picked it up somewhere, I don’t know. I probably googled it at some point or saw a video.” Donnie continued shining the flashlight around.
“All those late nights YouTubing when you should've been asleep.” Laura snorted.
“More like BitChute now, or was...” His voice trailed off as he looked down.
They walked into the manager’s office and spotted a couch. Laura collapsed onto it and sighed. “Oh my God, this feels so good. I never thought I’d be so thankful to get flat.”
Jim came walking in still holding the bloodied shirt to his nose. “I just found a rec room with more couches.”
“Let’s move this one down there then. We better all sleep in the same room for safety.” Donnie nudged Laura to get up and help him carry it. They slid it into the rec room and continued searching around.
Once satisfied that they had the factory all to themselves, the couches beckoned them. Collapsing on the cushions, they slept as only the exhausted can. Reality blacked out under a dark shroud, and they awoke the next morning ready to face new challenges.
✹✹✹
Jackson drove out of town and smiled as it disappeared in the rearview mirror. He cruised down the road to where a pharmacy sat on a small hill. His washed over the lot and building and did not spot any movement, so they got out and checked around. After peering around the sides and looking through the windows, he walked up to the doors and broke the glass with the butt of his rifle. Once inside, they decided to help themselves to a lot more than just the medical supplies Michael required. They grabbed bandages, medicine, ointment, syringes, soft drinks, beer, water, junk food, toothpaste, toothbrushes, soaps, shampoos, various drugs, lawn chairs, a cooler, magazines, and towels. Only the cosmetics and postcards sections survived their pilfering. While they stuffed bags of goods into the trunk of the Jeep, Beverly treated Michael’s wound with ointment and bandages, and Jackson and Kathleen went back inside to get more. Anything requiring an electric outlet got pushed aside. They found flashlights and lanterns, took several, and cleaned out the battery display. When they finally drove off the back had so much plunder in it that Jackson could not use the rearview mirror.
The Inroad Chronicles (Book 1): Legion Seed Page 21